Spellbound
by Onashii
Summary: A young witch, who vowed to never love, was kidnapped & forced into slavery, posing as a magician to avoid her duties. She hid her emotions, until the day she met a fellow magician, Erik, who is about to turn her whole world upside down. EOC EC Kay novel
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera, Erik, Christine, Nadir, the shah, the khanum, or any other Phantom characters. I do, however, own all of the Channings, the witches, and a variety of other random characters.**

**Really this chapter isn't necessary to the rest of the story until later; really it just explains some reasoning for the rest of the story. I apologize if the first couple of paragraphs of the prologue are a bit slow, but trust me, it does eventually pick up. I promise that by the second chapter, the story will be much quicker-paced. **

**Reviews would be much appreciated, so don't be afraid to tell me what you think. Spellbound should be updating again soon, and I hope everyone will be eagerly awaiting updates in the future.**

**Thank you and enjoy!**

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**Prologue: The Disappearance of the Precious Little Magician**

The broiling heat of summer had finally arrived and reduced the cool spring breeze to nothing but a faint memory for the inhabitants of the sleepy French village of Mortroux, the majority of whom had taken to spending the hot afternoons in the shelter of their shady little homes. Even the children and pets dared not venture out into the sweltering summer sun of Creuse, Limousin. Typically, the only time that the village inhabitants spent any amount of time outside during the summer afternoons was when cottony clouds, carrying the threat of rain, blanketed the sky. Despite the need for a bit of rain, the adults were always quite wary of the prospect. To them, rain meant it was time to stay indoors, as did the summer heat, and the winter cold and snow. Therefore the inhabitants of Mortroux spent nearly all of their time waiting inside their homes, attempting to avoid the weather.

One of the few exceptions to this pattern of behavior was a hunched, wrinkled woman who enjoyed sitting in the shade of her dilapidated porch in an ancient, rickety rocking chair –– even on rainy days ­­–– and sipping tea out of a beautiful, though slightly chipped, china cup. She was known to her neighbors as Madame Leuriste, a distinguished widow who had moved to Mortroux with her French husband, Jacques Leuriste, before he died peacefully in his sleep. The neighbors never could quite ignore the fact that Madame Leuriste was born and raised British, and they concluded that therefore she was a gossip by nature.

Nevertheless, they went to no expense to hide their conversations and secrets from Madame Leuriste, who was rumored to be both deaf and mostly blind. Her neighbors continued to be blissfully ignorant of the obvious truth that Madame Leuriste was far from being either deaf or blind and actually had exceptional vision and hearing. How else could she have lived alone all of those years? Those rumors were simply their reasoning for why the old widow tended to keep to herself instead of paying nosy visits to her neighbors houses and discreetly envying the beautiful rose bushes that grew in front of the Channings' house next door. In fact, on this particularly hot day, Madame Leuriste was watching the fascinating activities of little Lara Channing.

Lara was the daughter of Michael Channing, a British man of Irish descent, which was made obvious by his flaming red hair, dark emerald eyes, and numerous freckles. Really, Lara hardly resembled her father, with her pure, porcelain skin, bright green eyes, and fair, heart-shaped face. The only characteristic that they seemed to share was their red hair, but Lara's hair was silkier and a deeper shade of red then her father's, nearly the color of freshly drawn blood. Other than that, she looked nothing like her father, who seemed to be a fairly plain man. It was common belief that Lara must have received her good looks from her mother, who apparently had died four years previously when Lara was only three years old, supposedly in some sort of accident involving a fire. After the accident, Michael and Lara had immediately moved to France, where Michael had gotten remarried to a younger, French woman.

His new wife's name was Amnette, and she was much loved by all of the neighbors. She was a sweet, young woman with straight, silky hair as black as a raven's feather and grey eyes. It was rumored that she had just celebrated her nineteenth birthday when she eloped with Michael against her parents' wishes. That was when they moved to Mortroux. After they settled in, they almost immediately ended up with a child, a baby girl who greatly resembled her mother with the exception of her dark emerald eyes and pale skin. Her parents gave her the name Jasmine, an unusual and uncommon name. Jasmine was pretty like her mother, but they were both pretty in a different, more innocent way than Lara. The two half-sisters couldn't have been more opposite, and it wasn't just because of the age difference between three-year-old Jasmine and seven-year-old Lara.

Jasmine was sweet and innocent, and Lara was fiery and fierce. Jasmine hardly ever got into trouble, while Lara was constantly being caught at her mischief making. Jasmine was already more sociable than Lara had probably ever been. All of the neighbors immediately favored Jasmine over Lara, just like their father Michael who would shower Jasmine with gifts and praise and Lara with insults and disapproval. Jasmine enjoyed playing with the other children and clinging to her mother's skirts, while Lara preferred to hide among the thorny rose bushes –– Madame Leuriste never could figure out how Lara managed to remain unscathed by the thorns –– entertaining herself with what Madame Leuriste had concluded to be magic tricks. In fact, at this very moment, Madame Leuriste could see Lara snapping her fingers, sending little tufts of flame, which swiftly morphed into animal-like figures, up into the air with each snap. Madame Leuriste often jokingly called Lara her very own, personal, little magician.

Every little bit of information Madame Leuriste knew about the Channing family, she had learned by observing them, eavesdropping on them, and discreetly listening to the gossip of her other neighbors. At first, Madame Leuriste never could quite figure out why the Channing family fascinated her so, at least until she first noticed Lara's magic tricks. Madame Leuriste wasn't sure why Lara always hid before engaging in her art, but she suspected that there must be a deeper reason for it than simple shyness. But little did she know that on this particularly scorching afternoon, a few of her questions would finally be answered.

At that very moment, a sudden, unexpected breeze swept over the landscape, catching Lara's latest flame creation, and carrying it off its course. The serpentine flame bent in the breeze and curled elegantly around a nearby rose bush. There was a long moment in which both Lara and Madame Leuriste simply watched in dumb fascination as the serpent continued to wind around the bush, a dark mist of smoke lifting away from the serpent like an old skin. Suddenly, the whole bush erupted in flame, and both spectators cried out in a horrified realization that the rose bush had caught on fire. Lara panicked and attempted to pat the fire out with her hands, but she only succeeded in giving herself searing burns.

The door to the Channing house swung open with a loud screech, and M. Channing himself stepped over the threshold, combing his hand through his red hair absentmindedly as he searched for the source of the disturbance. He turned toward the quickly spreading fire, and his mouth fell open in shock.

"Lara!" he exclaimed as he sprang into action and rushed to the aid of his daughter.

By then the other neighbors had started to emerge from their houses or peer through their windows, all of them curious as to what could possibly be causing all of the noise and activity outside on such a dreadfully hot day. Even Amnette was drawn out of the house, little Jasmine clinging desperately to her skirts.

"My Lord! Michael! Don't let Lara so near the flames! She'll get hurt!" Amnette gasped when she saw her husband and stepdaughter trying in vain to stifle the flames.

M. Channing roughly pulled Lara away from the fire, despite her panicked protests of, "Wait! I can help!" and "No! You can't do this! The house is going to burn down unless you let me help too!"

"This is all _your _fault, you little _witch_! I think you've helped out enough!" he growled fiercely at her in response before returning to his impossible task of suppressing the fire.

Her father's angry words had frozen Lara in place, her feet rooted to the ground. Her uncontrollable panic had instantly vanished when she had finally stopped her desperate attempt to fix her mistake. She spread her feet apart to take a better stance and raised her arms high above her head. Then she gently lowered her arms in front of her, palms down, and the flames followed the motions of her hands. The wall of fire slowly died down until nothing was left but the ashes of the once beautiful rose bushes. Lara gave a big sigh of relief and glanced around nervously as the neighbors' interest was lost as quickly as it had come, and they returned to the privacy of their homes.

"Michael! Thank the Lord you're safe!" Amnette exclaimed, lifting her skirts slightly, so the delicate fabric wouldn't be dragged through the dirt and ashes as she hurried toward her husband. "Do you have any idea what started the fire?"

She halted a few feet away from her husband, for he had lifted a hand to stop her from moving any closer, but his eyes were locked on Lara. "Michael!" she laughed nervously, her fleeting smile turning down into a frown. "What is the meaning of this?"

He didn't take his gaze off of Lara as he stiffly commanded through gritted teeth, "Go. Back. Inside." Amnette opened her mouth to protest, but Michael interrupted her, "NOW!" Amnette gave a start, but quickly recovered and hurried inside with little Jasmine tottering quickly after her with all of the grace of her fellow three-year-olds.

As soon as the streets were clear of any spectators –– Madame Leuriste being the exception, or course, due to her supposed _handicaps _–– Michael stomped loudly toward his daughter, his face twisted with fury. "_You!_" he growled, "You were doing it again when I specifically told you not to!"

Lara lowered her head in shame, and her gaze was locked on the dirt and ashes covering her bare feet. She refused to look at her father, and she instead focused on how to discreetly clean her feet off a bit. She decided to lightly shuffle her feet and wiggle her toes to shake some of the soot away, which turned out to be fairly ineffective. She continued this process in vain as her father continued his rant.

"You are just like _her!_ Always causing trouble with your _dark ways! _Constantly sneaking off to practice in secret! Endangering the lives of everyone around you! I always knew you would end up just like _her! _Just as _abnormal! _Just as _deranged!_" He paused momentarily to take a deep breath before continuing in a desperate voice, "Are you _trying_ to get caught in the act? Do you _want _your mother to go away for ever?"

Lara's hands had balled up into little fists, continuously getting tighter as her father threw insults at both her and her birth mother. Finally with the mention of Amnette, Lara snapped. "SHE IS _NOT _MY MOTHER!"

"Well, I married her, so she is now!" her father retorted, his face turning bright red with anger.

"NO!" Lara screeched, stomping her foot defiantly against the ground, "I HATE HER! AND I HOPE SHE DIES!"

Her father raised his hand to slap her, but Lara quickly fled from his reach. This only angered him more. "YOU COME BACK HERE!" he shouted, taking a step forward as Lara took several more steps back. He was now trembling with anger, and he threw his hands into the air, as if throwing Lara from his life. "You know what? FINE! YOU GET OUT OF HERE AND **NEVER COME BACK**!"

Lara glared fiercely into his eyes, the bright green orbs melting into pools of venom. "FINE THEN!" And with that, she stalked furiously away from him, disappearing down the beaten road, following the setting sun.

M. Channing finally stomped up the porch steps and met Amnette halfway through the door. Amnette glanced over his shoulder and asked, "Michael? Where's Lara?"

"I told her to leave," he grumbled, keeping his gaze cast down at his wife's feet.

Amnette stared at him expectantly for a moment. Then she gave a short laugh, "Come now...Be serious."

"I am being serious," he replied evenly, his face grim. "I really threw the little monster out of the house."

Amnette's mouth fell open. "YOU DID WHAT?"

"I said I threw her out." There was not even a hint of remorse in his voice.

Amnette exploded, "HAVE YOU GONE MAD? IT'S TOO DANGEROUS OUT THERE! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS?"

"Darling, calm down…Please! It's not a big deal!"

Amnette looked like he had just slapped her in the face. "Not a big deal?" she whispered in disbelief. "_Not a big deal? _Your first-born child is out walking the dangerous streets alone, and it's not a big deal? Have you gone mad?" There was no response. Amnette took several deep breaths and finally groaned, "Which way did she go?"

M. Channing reluctantly pointed down the path Lara had taken. Amnette aggressively pushed past him, careful to shoot him a furious glare as she marched outside. Once on the road, Amnette hiked up her skirts and began running down the path. Little did Madame Leuriste know, but that was to be the last time she would ever see Amnette Channing alive.

Madame Leuriste didn't find out about Amnette until late the next morning. It was a cloudy and ominous day, but to Madame Leuriste's surprise, all of the neighbors were outside, identical grim expressions on every face. The only people that were not outside were the Channings. There were dark whispers and murmurs being exchanged all over the neighborhood. Madame Leuriste heard her other next-door neighbor, Maurine Figgarte, shout to the Remiers across the street, "WHAT'S GOING ON? YOU ALL LOOK LIKE SOMEONE'S DIED!"

The Remiers glanced at each other, and then sweet, but gossip loving, Marie-Claire shuffled across the street to enlighten ignorant Maurine. "My dear," Marie-Claire began sadly, "Have you not heard?"

"Heard what?"

"Last night, M. Montraire was out driving his carriage on old Clairvente road, when he pulled over on the side of the road behind the brush to rest his mare. You _do _know how he loves his nighttime drives…"

Maurine nodded her head in acknowledgement and urged Marie-Claire to continued, "Go on then! Tell me what happened!"

"Patience, Maurine, patience…" Marie-Claire waited until Maurine's mouth was firmly closed before continuing, "Well, he started to hear noises, a lot of shouting. He said one of the voices was that of a female child, and there were a few more voices, all male, but he claimed they spoke in some foreign language. He suspected it was Arabic, and he thought he caught the word _shah_ occasionally mentioned in their conversation. Now he thinks that they may have been Persians if he had heard them correctly, and they were discussing the shah of Persia.

"Anyway, he walked a bit closer and peered through the brush and saw a group of four men, all of them dark and vicious-looking. He said there was a tall, lanky one; a short, burly one; one with a hood who seemed to be the leader; and one with a missing eye. He said that the lanky man had his arms wrapped tightly around a small, struggling child with red hair. At first he thought the child had been hit so hard that her head was bleeding, but then he realized that the blood he believed he saw was the just the girl's strange red hair. And whom else do we know with bloody red hair besides little Lara Channing? He figured it must have been her.

"Then all of a sudden, another figure appeared, a woman, and she began screaming at the men to let the girl go! They simply laughed, and the burly one tried to grab the woman, but she fought back. Then the one-eyed man thrust his hand quickly away from his chest, and then let it fall immediately back to his side. At that exact same moment the woman suddenly collapsed to the ground, a dagger sticking out of her chest, right where her heart would have been. M. Montraire swore that he never even saw the flash of the blade! The next thing he knew, little Lara was shrieking in horror, but her captor quickly covered her mouth with his hand to muffle her screams. He said the men just kept laughing and laughing, until the lanky man gave a pained yell, and the leader slapped the poor girl. M. Montraire thought that Lara probably bit the man's hand in an attempt to escape, and the leader wanted to teach her some obedience.

"Finally the men disappeared into the woods on the other side of the road, and M. Montraire waited for a few minutes to be sure they weren't going to return, before he carefully approached the woman's body. He looked closely and was horrified to find that the woman was actually sweet Amnette Channing and that she was dead. He picked up her body and carried it to his carriage. Then he drove his mare as hard as he could to get back to Mortroux as quickly as possible. He immediately went to M. Channing and told him the whole story. The poor man was a wreck when he heard the news! And I don't blame him! Two wives dead, and now a daughter spirited away by a bunch of barbarians!"

Madame Leuriste was completely numb; only her ears were still in working condition. Apparently Maurine was less sympathetic to M. Channing's losses. "I don't see why he let them out alone at night in the first place. And why didn't M. Montraire act faster? A true gentleman would have risked his life to protect two fine ladies! He is no man! Just a coward!" Maurine criticized in her usual loud, stuffy voice.

Maurine continued to bumble on about the faults of every person involved with the murder and kidnapping, but Madame Leuriste was no longer listening to her, or to anyone for that matter. All she could think about was little Lara Channing. Who were those men? Where were they taking her? Why did they want her? What would they do to her? But the biggest question on her mind was this:

_What would become of her precious, little magician?_

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**So, how was it? Remember, I gladly welcome reviews whether they be critique, praise, or just proof that you read the chapter.**

**Thanks for reading, and I promise I will try to update again soon!**


	2. The New Arrival and His Evil Cloak

**Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera nor any Phantom characters. I do, however, own Lara.**

**This chapter begins in the portion of the book when Erik is introduced to the khanum of Persia, the mother of the shah. This chapter may also seem a bit slow at first, but I promise that the story will pick up pace soon. It's just the way of lengthy introductions and all that. Thank you for your patience.**

**Read and Review, s'il vous plait!**

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**Chapter One: The New Arrival and His Evil Cloak**

The crescent moon sank behind the horizon of the lightening sky, the stars beginning to vanish. Only Venus remained visible and bright in the sky as the other stars faded into the oblivion of day. The morning star finally began its retreat, and the soft pinks and oranges of dawn washed over the harsh, Persian landscape, bringing a subtle beauty to the otherwise barren land. As the subdued maroon hue of the morning sun began to rise above the horizon, the magnificent silhouette of a great palace was revealed, standing firmly and majestically amidst a vast city. The city slowly began to awake from its slumber, life stirring within the walls of every building, including the palace.

In one particular room of the palace – one of the corner rooms of the harem – sunlight streamed in through the window, casting intricate patterns onto the floor as the light pierced through the scarlet curtains. As the morning sun grew higher on the horizon, the shadows retreated farther into the depths of the room, and finally the sunlight came to rest upon the room's single inhabitant, her hair catching the light and glittering like the bloody facets of a ruby. This effect was made even more spectacular by the violent contrast of the bloody curtains of hair falling gently around a pale, porcelain face.

The full lips of the girl turned down into a frown, and her delicate brow furrowed as the light intruded on her previously peaceful sleep. She groaned in frustration and rolled over on her side, turning her back to the light. It seemed that just as she had fallen back into her relaxed state, a loud cracking noise – much like the disruptive noise a Chinese firecracker makes when ignited – sounded from the courtyard below, interrupting her peace once more. Her eyes shot open as she involuntarily jumped up in alarm, falling out of her bed and onto the lush burgundy rug on the floor. As she glanced warily around her room and realized where she was, she shot a nasty glare toward the window – her eyes two festering pools of green venom – and blew a stray strand of hair out of her face.

Forcing herself to her feet, the girl approached the window and peered out at the courtyard below in a state of sheer irritation. To her surprise, there was a strange, funereal figure – wearing black, formal European dress – standing in the middle of the courtyard, surrounded by a ring of fire which kept the two astonished eunuch guards, wielding _yatakans_, at bay. The flames smoldered away until there was no trace of the fire except for a thin haze of light smoke. As the smoke cleared away, she could more clearly see his face, which was curiously hidden under a mysterious, white mask.

Suddenly, she heard loud, mocking applause drifting through the wall by her bed, and the disciplined murmurs of female voices. She concluded that the voices belonged to the khanum and the other harem girls, who were probably watching this spectacle of a man from the balcony. Of course! she thought, the man must have been the new arrival that the khanum had been so excited about for the last couple of days! He was known simply by the name of Erik, and the man was supposedly the most brilliant magician in the world!

She scowled at this thought. "How could he _possibly _be a better magician than _me?_" she scoffed, shooting a skeptical glare back at the window before giving a nervous laugh.

She watched the man for a moment longer, and then she reached a spontaneous decision. She would sneak out of the harem and follow Erik to his home. And as soon as she assessed his abilities, she would set up a few little _surprises _for the man. She threw her head back and cackled deviously before waving a hand to shroud herself in a shadowy vapor, which draped itself tenderly around her body in the form of a cloak. Taking care to conceal her pale face and red hair inside the safety of the cloak's hood, she made the final preparations for her escape.

Her heart skipped a beat when her whole room was filled with the horrible, grating sound of shrieks. She froze in place, hovering above the rope she had been winding from her bed sheets, and strained her ears for some sort of explanation.

The khanum's vicious shouts silenced the screaming women. "Be silent! The next woman who screams will be beaten to death for her stupidity, I swear it! Now leave me…Go! All of you!"

These words did not explain the strange outburst of screams, so she attempted to listen closer, but could hear nothing but the sound of the other harem girls. There seemed to be a flurry of noise passing by her door as the women moved with quick, clumsy footsteps, jangling their bracelets and necklaces in time with their steps. She waited until the corridor outside her room fell silent once more before hurriedly tying off her bed sheet rope with strong knots.

Then she rushed to the window and peered out into the courtyard yet again. The man's lips seemed to twist at the edges to form a little smile, before he spoke again. He paused a moment before giving an eloquent bow and turning to leave the courtyard. She held her breath as she heard the khanum's proud steps pass by her room, and as soon as they had disappeared, she flung herself toward the window and hurriedly slipped through it, her hands tightly wound through the bed sheet rope, tied to her bed, for security.

She managed to scale down the side of the building without being noticed, and soon she was following in the wake of the masked man, a mere shadow, and discovered how difficult it was to keep up with this elusive magician. Several times she lost sight of him, only to spot him again off somewhere in the distance.

Finally she saw him draw out his keys and unlock the door all in one fluid motion. Then the keys seemed to vanish with a slight twitch of his hand. She stared at him in shock, but before she could conceive what had just happened, he had disappeared through the door.

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Erik slipped quietly through the entrance to his apartment, managing to avoid any unwanted contact with his servants. All he wanted was to retire to his study to begin development on the plans for the shah's new palace in Ashraf, a masterpiece that demanded silence, patience, and above all, solitude.

He entered his study, a room filled with handsome touches of rich, Persian design. In the center of the room, there stood an elegant desk – hand-carved from walnut – its beautiful, chocolate wood emanating a deep purple glow. Beneath the table, lay an ornate Persian rug, its pattern a mix of passionate colors, primarily scarlet and purple. Lovely wine red curtains hung from a golden fixture above the windows, adding depth to effect of the light shining through the windows, producing billowing shadows on the floor.

Erik removed his cloak and tossed it at his chair, where it landed gracefully on the chair back. Then he lit a few candles and drew the curtains shut, the room instantly plunging into darkness with only the muted light of the candles to fight against the shadows. He gracefully draped himself in the dark chair, covered in comfortable cushions that matched the rug.

Twirling a quill absentmindedly within the long fingers of his left hand, he sifted through the supplies strewn across his table until he found a small jar of ink. He dipped the quill tip into the ink and began to sketch an array of complicated figures with quick, but delicate, strokes. He instantly became absorbed in his work and felt sorry for any unfortunate person who dared to interrupt his work now.

Something jolted Erik's left elbow, causing his hand to knock the little jar of ink over on its side, the dark liquid spilling onto his work, ruining his palace designs. Erik cursed loudly and rose angrily from his chair, turning to glare at the offender. To his surprise, the room was as empty as it had been moments ago, and the door remained firmly shut. He glanced around the room suspiciously, and his confusion turned to irritation as he continued to search for a being that was not there.

He grumbled irately under his breath, obviously displeased with the lack of a logical explanation to how his arm had been knocked into the jar without a perpetrator, as he cleared away the inky mess on his desk. Grabbing some fresh paper first, Erik returned to his seat, only to have his arm knocked again, this time causing him to draw a diagonal slash through his fresh designs. He jumped up from his chair in a fury, immediately being yanked back down.

Erik yelped a curse in surprise when he realized that his cloak was wrapping itself around both him and the chair, attempting to bind him to it. He struggled against the cloak, desperately trying to pry himself from its grasp, but it was a wasted effort.

Despite his realization that the cloak had won, he continued to struggle for his freedom, until he became aware of a strange shadow drifting in a hazy cloud through the now open window. The smoke-like shadow glided toward him, halting only a short distance away. The haze seemed to solidify to form a long, thin figure, concealed in the recesses of a dark cloak, the edges of the fabric billowing gently like smoke on the wind. The hooded figure just stood there stiffly, seeming to watch him with an air of unsuppressed hostility.

Erik glared darkly at the figure, his mouth twisted down into a deep scowl, as he demanded, "Who the hell are you, how did you get in here, and what in _your _God's name did you do to me?"

The figure seemed to stagger a bit at the sound of his voice, but shortly recovered. After a moment, a silky female voice answered, her voice carefully controlled, "My name is Lara. I am a personal entertainer of the shah and the khanum – a magician – and hopefully that will be a sufficient answer to those last two questions." As she spoke, she passed her hand delicately past her concealed face, and the cloak followed the motion, drifting away from her head in a dark mist.

The contrast of Lara's features took Erik by surprise. Her hair – the color of fresh blood seeping from a cut – clashed wildly with the colorless, porcelain skin of her face. Snake-like, bright green eyes, full of venomous intent, captured his focus, and the sharp point of the chin on her heart-shaped face only added to the illusion of staring a snake in the eye. But despite her odd appearance, he had to admit that she was devastatingly beautiful, her face seeming to be carved of smooth stone.

"Wait," Erik began suspiciously, a sudden thought occurring to him, "I thought it was a custom here for women to keep their faces covered."

"I am not from this country, and nor do I believe in the Islamic religion. Therefore I don't give a damn about those idiotic customs! So what are you going to do about it? Report me?" Lara scoffed disdainfully, tossing her hair impatiently with her hand.

Erik stared at her, surprised and grudgingly impressed. A woman, living in a man's world, who dared to speak against them; that was a brave, but foolish, action to take. He had just met the woman and could already see that she was an incredibly arrogant being, and the fact that she had trapped him in his chair was really starting to irritate him. "Of course not. I don't give a damn about their customs either! I would, however, report you for breaking and entering, but police tend to be hopelessly incompetent. It would be much more efficient if I simply killed you on the spot!" he ended in a vicious hiss.

Though her eyes seemed to steal a quick, worried glance at him when he threatened her, Lara grinned and gave a high, cackling laugh. "I should like to see you try," she taunted, gesturing toward the cloak restraints, which suddenly tightened on him as he struggled for freedom.

Lara smirked at him, obviously proud of herself. "There's no use struggling," she announced, her voice conceited, "It will only kill you faster if you do…" Her sentence trailed off for a moment as she stared over his shoulder dreamily, a smile spreading across her face as she enjoyed some private thought. Then she suddenly flicked her eyes back to his masked face and proudly continued to applaud herself. "Impressive, no?"

"No," Erik muttered, his yellow cat eyes narrowed into murderous slits. Lara frowned and returned his glare, the venom in her eyes boiling furiously. Erik's scowl deepened. "Why did you come here anyway?"

Lara tilted her head to the side, puzzled by his question. "You mean you haven't figured it out yet?" she asked. Her voice sounded disappointed now, instead of arrogant.

"No, and I don't intend to waste my time trying," Erik grumbled, his arms twitching against the restraints in an involuntary attempt to move themselves into their usual position, folded against his chest. He waited for a useful reply, but Lara simply continued to frown at him, looking disappointed.

Finally she sighed, "Perhaps I've wasted my time on you today…You don't seem intelligent or skilled enough for me to worry very much about…"

Erik clenched his fists angrily, and after a moment, he hissed through clenched teeth, "_Care to elaborate?_"

Lara returned her full attention to him, her smirk reappearing on her lips. "I suppose I might as well," she replied, her voice once again arrogant as she spoke. "You see, your arrival here has threatened my way of life."

Erik shot her a skeptical glance. "And how is that?" Lara's smirk faded. Apparently she hadn't been planning on revealing all of the details. "Are you refusing to tell me why my arrival here is a threat to you? I rather enjoy knowing that people actually _have_ reasons for loathing me."

Lara quirked a confused eyebrow at this statement, but didn't comment. Then she eyed him, almost wearily, before sighing, "Very well…" Lara's gaze shifted away from his face to stare at a beautiful tapestry on the wall, derived from the interior of an old temple.

When she spoke again, she was hesitant as if trying to choose her words carefully. "I am actually from the harem…one of the shah's many concubines in training," she said miserably, turning away from Erik to hide her expression.

Erik frowned at this, and the cloak tightened around him as his fists clenched involuntarily.

Lara continued, unaware of anything but her own words, "I have already completed my training, and the only thing that keeps me free from being forced into service is my magic. Both the khanum and the shah noticed my array of little magic tricks, and soon they were requesting me to perform for them every couple of days.

"But when my training was declared completed a little over two years ago, when I had turned thirteen, I tried to find a way to get out of my expected duties. I claimed that I would only continue to perform my magic as long as I remained untouched. They agreed to it, but they were visibly displeased by my audacity. That was when I realized how truly desperate they were for my entertainment, so I began using this to my advantage in other aspects.

"Then, a few weeks ago, I heard the khanum clamoring for information about a mysterious magician, supposedly the greatest in the world, who went simply by the name of Erik. I assume that would be you." Her voice became hard and bitter as she said this, turning to glare at Erik over her shoulder. He set his jaw and refused to answer.

Lara turned away from him again and continued, "As soon as the news came that you would be arriving in Persia shortly to take the shah's offer, the khanum gave me this dangerous, gloating look. My time being nearly free is limited. Soon, I will be considered disposable, and I will have to choose between a life of slavery, or no life at all…"

The echo of her mournful words still hung in the air. Erik noticed that her whole body seemed to be trembling with emotion. It took her a moment before she was composed enough to turn back to him, but the tearstains on her cheeks were still visible. "So do you see now? Do you see what you have brought upon me?" Now her voice was angry, her venomous eyes flashing with the desire for revenge. "You must leave at once!"

His gold eyes narrowed, and he glared at her with unsuppressed malice. "And why should I?" he hissed coldly. "_Your _problems do not concern me."

Lara flinched slightly under his dark glare, and her voice was suddenly pleading. "_Please, _you _must_ leave! You don't seem to understand! I would give _anything_ to be able to leave this horrid place…to be free…You must go _now!_ Before you can be drawn in too deep!"

"Leave?" Erik gave a cold laugh. "Why would I ever want to do that? They have offered me _power!_" –the word was spoken with such reverence, that it frightened Lara– "What could _possibly _be a better reward than that?"

Lara's eyes locked with his for a moment as she whispered one word, "_Freedom_…" As her whisper faded away, she faded with it, her body becoming nothing more than the black vapor from before which drifted out the window.

As if on cue, the cloak released its grip on his body and fell limply to the floor. Erik rubbed his wrists to lessen the tingling sensation of the fresh blood flowing through his veins. He turned his eyes toward the partially open window and closed it, hovering by it for a moment as he peered out into the street, searching for a trace of his unwelcome visitor.

"Strange girl…" he mused silently.

---

**I apologize once again for some of the slow-paced stuff at the beginning, but I hope you all enjoyed it. I'll try to update again soon, and please Read and Review.**


	3. Enigma

**Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera. I do however own Lara.**

**I apologize for the delay. I've been busy reading **_**Eclipse**_** and starting a new Phantom story called **_**Infinity**_**. Be sure to check it out if you have time.**

**I'd like to thank my lovely readers and reviewers, and I hope everyone enjoys this chapter.**

**Read & Review please!**

**---**

**Chapter Two: Enigma**

Lara submerged herself in her work, easily sliding into her magic tricks with perfect precision. She never made mistakes, not anymore. But as the time passed, she noticed an unusual feeling of unease as she performed; although, she had no idea why. She was normally perfectly comfortable performing for the shah, the powerful ruler of Persia. He adored her, after all. She had quickly become one of his favorites, and he had even given her the affectionate pet name _Shula_, meaning flame, referring to both her red hair and fiery attitude.

Performing for the shah may not have been her life's dream, but she would rather be entertaining him than his vicious mother, the khanum. Lara shuddered just thinking about her. She was just grateful that the shah was a hypocrite and didn't abide by his own customs and laws, allowing her to perform in comfortably scanty attire. In fact, she was fairly sure that he would have demanded her to perform without the customary, concealing robes anyway.

Although she didn't particularly wish to encourage the shah, she was grateful to be free of her hot robes. Today she was wearing one of her favorite outfits, a combination of wispy white garments: puffy white pants and a revealing wrap shirt. The white contrasted sharply with her red hair, and to add to the dramatic effect, Lara had tied a scarlet sash around her hips and set a matching, bloody ruby into the front knot of her shirt.

Lara stopped her mind from wandering and forced all of her focus into her next trick. She created a little spark of flame between her fingers and then, after cradling the flame between her hands for a moment, she clapped them together, and the flames shot out away from her in a fiery ring.

The flash of light was so blinding, that only after the eyes had a chance to adjust, was a long, fiery dragon visible. It flapped its fiery wings and continued to circle Lara in what became a spiral of fire. Finally the flame dragon popped in an explosion of sparks and smoke.

The shah applauded enthusiastically at the display, and quite suddenly, Lara became aware of a second pair of clapping hands. She spun toward the entrance of the throne room, her hair flying wildly like fire, and was shocked to see Erik leaning nonchalantly against the wall, slowly and deliberately clapping his hands. There was a smirk on his lips, and his eyes were searing as they greedily took in the full image of her body.

Lara felt herself involuntarily blush and glared furiously back at the masked man while the shah smiled knowingly at the new arrival. "Ah. Good. You're on time," he said simply.

Erik's eyes didn't leave Lara for a second as he replied, "Why, of course. Otherwise, I might have missed this breathtaking _display_…" His voice was dark but not angry. As he continued to stare at her, Lara couldn't help but notice that he didn't seem to be referring to the fiery dragon either. Her pale face blushed red again, and she tried to divert her thoughts to something else.

The shah must have noticed too, because suddenly his voice was curt and overly aggressive. "Yes! Well, now you know the standards which you must meet!"

Erik's golden eyes flickered to the shah, and his gaze darkened considerably. Apparently he didn't appreciate the challenging tone. "I _assure_ you that my performances are hardly your standard, amateur tricks," he hissed coldly, his jaw set angrily.

"I shall be the judge of that!" the shah snapped in return.

Erik's eyes flashed dangerously, but he instantly cooled his temper. "Of course," he replied in a silky hiss. There was a flash of light as he was enveloped in a sudden burst of smoke and flames, and suddenly he was standing three feet away from Lara.

She jumped in surprise. '_I didn't even hear him move! How could any _human _be that good?_' she wondered in awe.

The shah seemed much more impressed. He sat in his throne, paralyzed, with his mouth gaping open. "Impressive," he admitted, his voice dazed.

"Thank you."

The silky, melodious voice that had spoken had certainly sounded like Erik's, but his lips were sealed shut and the voice had come from a completely different corner of the room. Lara stared at him, her eyes wide with disbelief at a trick she had never seen before.

The shah seemed delighted by this new trick and seemed suddenly excited for more. His tone was suddenly proud as he announced with mirth, "I should have known! Of course a male magician would exceed a female's talents! It's just the natural order of things."

Lara's hands clenched into tight fists, her nails digging painfully into her palms. She glared hatefully at Erik and scowled at the gloating expression in his eyes and his smirk.

Erik's smirk faded into a frown though as Lara continued to glare at him. Angry tears were welling up in her eyes, and all she wanted to do was escape. She didn't want Erik to see her weakness, her fear.

"Perhaps I'd better leave…" Lara growled through clenched teeth.

The shah waved a dismissive hand. "Nonsense! Stay a while, little Shula." Lara frowned at her pet name, her pale face blushing in embarrassment. "I'm sure you shall find Erik's performance…_enlightening_."

"Gah! Male egos…_typical!_" Lara complained under her breath. She could have sworn that Erik's lips had turned up into a faint smirk at that exact moment. Had he heard? she wondered, her breath sticking in her throat.

"What was that?" the shah asked, glancing curiously at Lara.

"Oh, nothing! Nothing at all!" she replied with false cheer. As soon as the shah turned to Erik, she made a face at the back of his head.

Erik struggled to stifle a laugh and maintain a straight face for the shah. As the shah addressed Erik and told him to begin, Lara heard Erik's voice whispering in her ear. "You are quite an unusual girl, Lara…"

Lara gave a little start at the sound of his voice, and her eyes flicked accusingly at his masked face. His whispering voice chuckled quietly in her ear, slowly fading into oblivion.

"Lara!" the shah shouted.

She glanced up at him in shock. "Huh?"

"I've been calling your name," he explained.

Lara blinked. "You have?" Had she really been that distracted? "Hmm…I apologize…I guess I couldn't hear you…"

The shah gave her a weird look but quickly recovered. "Right then. Come stand by me," he commanded, gesturing to the empty space on his left and smiling invitingly.

Lara gave a nervous smile and hesitantly walked to his side. As she passed by Erik, she felt his gaze burning into her skin, and she blushed in response. She hurriedly attempted to hide her face behind the red curtain of her hair, but she knew it was too late. He had already seen her embarrassing involuntarily response.

She hurriedly took her position by the shah, uncomfortably aware of this unusual invitation. She tried to ignore him and focused grudgingly on Erik instead.

Through the duration of his performance, Lara observed every one of his tricks closely. She knew that she could have done all of them easily with her magic, but the way he presented all of them was amazing! His tricks were charming, beautiful, clever, and above all _frightening_. He was human, and yet his illusions were seamless!

However, what frightened Lara the most was that the shah seemed to be irritatingly pleased by Erik's performance, and now she realized the significance of the shah inviting her to stay. He wanted her to see that her services as a magician were no longer needed, and that soon another service would be required of her.

Lara felt the terror building up inside of her. Surely he wouldn't force her today! But as she glanced inconspicuously at the shah from beneath her lashes, she could tell that her days were numbered. There were only three options left that could save her.

She could run away, but she was too likely to get caught. Plus she had nowhere else to go.

She could try to convince Erik to leave Persia again. If that didn't work, she could switch to more devious methods.

But her final option scared her to the point where she felt like retching. If her first two options couldn't work, she would have to try to kill him.

'_NO! There _has _to be a better way!_' her thoughts screamed in her head.

The sound of the shah's voice interrupted her panicked strategy planning. "Little Shula, you may go now. I need to discuss a few…_issues_…with Erik in private now." And with that dismissal, he waved her away, shooting her a frightening look of desire as she bowed before hurrying out of the room.

Feeling a bit sick to her stomach, Lara stopped once she was outside of the throne room and hid in the shadows, where she could collapse against the wall without being disturbed. She sat there on the floor, leaning her head against the cold marble wall while surrendering to her panic attack.

"Are you all right?"

Lara shot up in alarm. Erik was standing very close to her and was gazing down at her with a strange look in his eyes.

'_How is it that he's so quiet?_' she wondered, amazed and irritated at the same time. "Not really…" she admitted weakly.

Erik sighed and offered a hand to her. "Here, let me help you up."

"Stay away from me!" Lara snapped. "I don't need _your _help!"

Erik scowled, and his eyes hardened. "_Fine_ _then!_ I don't even know why I offered!" He turned on his heel, his black cloak fluttering with his motion like wings.

Lara glared after him and angrily got to her feet on her own. "See! I didn't even need your help! I was fine on my own!" she shouted after him.

Erik ignored her and continued to walk away. Lara took a step, and suddenly her legs collapsed under her. She screamed in surprise and shut her eyes, preparing to impact with the cold, hard floor. But the hit never came.

Lara hesitantly opened one eye, and then the other. She was staring up at the ceiling, and Erik was peering down at her from above. He was cradling her in his strong arms as if she weighed nothing at all.

"How did you _do _that?" Lara asked breathlessly.

Erik shrugged. "Quick reflexes," he suggested. Then he smirked. "Do you think you will be all right if I put you down now? Or should I carry you?"

Lara's eyes narrowed, and she struggled to get out of his grasp. "No! Put me down immediately!"

Erik stared reproachfully at her. "If that is what you wish," he snorted, dropping Lara, who screamed, only to catch her again before she could hit the floor. Then he set her straight on her feet.

She glared hatefully at him. "You are so mean!" she cried, stamping her foot before stalking off to grab her robes and depart.

"You are quite an enigma, Mlle. Lara," Erik chuckled quietly to himself, "You fascinate me."

**---**

**Thank you for reading! And if you have time, try checking out my other Phantom fan fiction "Infinity."**

**Please review!**


	4. Rumors

**Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera. I do however own Lara.**

**Sorry for the delay in updates. I just started school on the 16****th**** and I've been kind of busy. But thank you for your patience.**

**Read & Review!**

**---**

**Chapter Three: Rumors**

"Stupid idiotic mask face!" Lara grumbled under her breath, as she stomped back into the palace's harem. "I'll teach that bastard to mess with me!"

She loudly slammed the door to the main entrance behind her, causing the eunuch guards to jump up in surprise and brandish their _yatakans_ threateningly at her.

"Oh! Get those things out of my face, you idiots!" she growled, irritably swatting one of the blades away from her head.

The guards glared reproachfully at her as she shoved her way past them, and then glanced curiously at each other, probably trying to find an explanation for her odd behavior toward them. Normally, the eunuch guards were the only people in the harem whom Lara treated with respect. Some had even come to think of her as a friend.

"Wonder what _her _problem is today?" the shorter guard scoffed, folding his arms across his chest.

"Are you daft?" the taller guard exclaimed, staring at his companion with disbelieving eyes.

The shorter guard rolled his eyes impatiently. "What areyou going on about now?"

"Well, isn't it obvious?" the other demanded. His fellow guard continued to stare at him incredulously. "Now that the shah has found a replacement magician with as much talent as Lara, possibly more, he no longer requires those _particular_ services of her…It's obvious that he has something _else_ in mind for her now. And you know how she feels about that!"

The short guard groaned, "Let's just hope she doesn't try burning down the palace again…"

"Yeah, I've still got scars from last time!"

The incessant chatter of the gossiping eunuchs faded as Lara slipped up the grand marble staircase. Now a new buzz of chatter met her ears, the low voices of the harem girls. The typical, hushed whispers of the harem residents were no longer necessary when the khanum was safely tucked away in her room, hidden behind closed doors.

"Can you _believe_ the khanum?" an airy voice exclaimed. "I heard she's planning to receive the magician in her _room!_"

A new voice spoke, velvety and dark. "Well, you certainly wouldn't see _me_ letting that _monster_ anywhere _near_ me without an army of armed guards at hand! I would rather _die_ than be touched by him!"

Following the sound of the voices, Lara finally entered a large, veiled room, located to the left of the landing. The room was absolutely drowning in rich fabrics and tapestries. Beautiful, raven-haired, dark-eyed women lounged lazily about the room, draping their lithe figures over cushions and one-armed sofas. None of them wore their robes in the secrecy of their own home, preferring to expose their rich copper skin to the light. Instead they wore wispy garments, most of them much more scantily clad than Lara. The majority of the women wore jewel-tone or other dark, attractive colors. Lara was one of the few concubines still permitted to wear white, being one of the few women to still have her virtue.

A few of them held ornate pipes and were calmly sucking in and exhaling smoke, calmly blissful smiles plastered on their faces. Sunlight peeked through the numerous arches, leading directly to the courtyard balcony, and revealed a smoky haze, a combination of burning incense and opium smoke which remained thick in the air.

Lara was careful to tie a white cloth protectively over her mouth and nose before entering the room, disgusted by the sickly sweet haze wafting about it. She had always refused to smoke, explaining to the others that she was much too aware of the disgusting properties of the substance to be idiotic enough to breathe it into her system.

She removed her cream-colored robes, revealing her white and red costume, and tossed them carelessly to the floor. The room fell silent and every set of eyes was peering at Lara, watching her cautiously as she waded through the waves of silk before taking a seat by another white-clothed girl named Ayesha, who gave Lara a little smile.

Ayesha was one of the few women Lara had managed to establish a friendship with. She was fourteen, a year younger than Lara, and practically the only girl who could stand the full force of Lara's random outbursts of anger and still forgive her. Though, normally Lara tried to divert her anger from falling unjustly on her friend and force it onto someone who probably deserved it. The majority of the shah's concubines were corrupt anyway, so Lara pretty much just tried to keep her rage from affecting her Ayesha.

"So…" Lara began quietly, her curiosity overcoming the anger she felt for Erik. Someone – probably Rasha – had called him a monster. She knew he was irritating, overconfident, and rude, but she could hardly see how that qualified him as a _monster_. All eyes were still locked on her, frightened of her reaction. "What were you saying about Erik?"

"_It's got a name?_" Rasha snorted, clearly amused by the idea.

Lara stiffened, and her green eyes flashed as she growled defensively, "Of course _he's _got a name! It's Erik!" The other women gawked at her, terrified and amazed by her outburst.

Rasha pursed her lips, eyeing Lara darkly for a moment. "May I ask _why_ you are defending the monster who is ruining your only method of remaining untouched?" she demanded coldly.

"I-he-" Lara was at a loss for words. Why _had _she impulsively defended Erik? Only moments ago, she had been certain that she hated the man!

She shook her head and quickly tried to change the subject. "Why are _you_ calling him a _monster?_" she demanded. "You don't even know him!"

The entire room froze. It seemed that every woman was holding her breath. Finally, Rasha found the courage to reply, her voice weak. "You mean you didn't see?" she asked breathlessly, her voice trembling ever so slightly.

Lara blinked. "See what?"

The women gasped in unison and turned to each other, muttering urgent whispers along the lines of: "She truly doesn't know! She didn't see!" Lara raised a skeptical eyebrow at all of the panicked whispers setting the room abuzz.

The room seemed to calm a bit, and this time the airy-voiced woman began to speak, her voice hardly more than a whisper. "Have you not wondered _why_ he wears that mask?"

Lara shrugged, trying to brush off the identical, puzzling expressions of terror etched onto every woman's face. "Not really," she admitted, "I thought it was just for show…for dramatic effect or his trademark or something along _those_ lines."

"It's to hide his face!" Ayesha piped up, her horrified expression laced with a sadness that was absent from the other women's faces.

Lara glanced affectionately at her friend, wearing a knowing smile as she shook her head slightly. "That's generally what masks are for, Ayesha," she mocked slowly, laughing at her friend for stating the obvious. "So he wants to be mysterious…What's wrong with that?" she continued, carelessly tossing aside Ayesha's sadness as being a result of typical female, hormone-induced depression, completely missing the implications.

"No…his face _is_ the reason he has to wear a mask-"

"Has to?" interrupted Lara, skeptical once more.

"Yes." Rasha was speaking again, her voice taking on the eerie quality associated with ghost stories. "He _has_ to wear the mask because his face is such a terrible sight to behold…"

"His flesh is burned and marred, twisted and stretched grotesquely over his misshapen skull!" interjected the airy woman. "He looks as if he crawled up from the fiery pits of Hell itself! Like some sort of Devil's child!"

Lara glared at her skeptically and frowned, but before she could say a word, Rasha had suddenly stolen the spotlight again.

"No!" she exclaimed. "He's more of a corpse! That's why his body is so skeletal…"

Lara tried to open her mouth and reply, but was once more interrupted by Rasha. "His eyes are sunken deep into his skull, and pieces of bone are visible where his flesh has rotted off!" A few of the women looked as if they were about to be sick as they listened to Rasha's gruesome description. Rasha actually seemed pleased by the reaction she was drawing from her audience.

"And above his lips, right here where his nose should be," Rasha tapped her own nose with her finger, "there is a large, gaping whole instead! Right where his nose never grew!"

The women gasped in horror, while Lara continued to scowl at them, her glare growing darker and more skeptical with every second.

Rasha grinned maliciously at Lara, though somehow it didn't match the terrified glint in her eyes. "So you see, your _Erik_ is nothing but a reanimated cadaver. He's a living corpse!" She cackled evilly, though her eyes were still frightened.

As her laughter died out, the room fell into a strained silence. All eyes were focused on Lara, awaiting her reaction.

She stared angrily back at them, her lips drawn into a thin line as she glared at them expectantly. When no one laughed and revealed the story as hoax, Lara finally jumped upright and clenched her fists into tight little balls, scowling as she hissed, "Why do I even _bother _talking to you if you aren't ever going to be serious?"

"But we _are_ being se-"

Lara wheeled around and shrieked, "BE SILENT YOU IDIOT!" Ayesha immediately snapped her mouth shut and shrunk away from Lara, wincing at her furious gaze. "If you ask me, that opium's finally destroyed what little amount of brains you women had to begin with! That wasn't even funny! Those were terribly cruel things to say about someone you don't even know! You had no right to make up those ridiculous rumors about him!" Lara threw her hands wildly up in the air. "What's next?" she cried. One of the women opened her mouth to reply, but Lara held up a hand and interrupted her, "Oh no, let me guess! The shah's secretly a werewolf!"

The other simply gawked at her, too stunned to make any sort of response.

Lara growled in frustration before exclaiming, "I'm getting out of here before _I_ start babbling nonsense too!" And with that, Lara stormed out of the room, ripping off her makeshift mask on the way out.

As soon as she pushed her way through the veil, she collided with something cold and hard, nearly being knocked to the floor. A set of large, cold hands caught her by the waist and steadied her before she could fall down.

"Ouch! Watch where you're go-_Erik_?"

Sure enough, Erik was standing in front of her, his hands gently clasped about her waist. She must have accidentally run into his chest in her hurry to escape from the room.

As she peered at him, she noticed that his mouth was held taut, and his whole body seemed to be as rigid as a board. "You…you weren't listening to _that_, were you?" she faltered, horrified that he had overheard that awful conversation. Strangely, his expression seemed to be tearing at her, torturing her until she couldn't resist her involuntary desire to comfort him.

"I'm afraid so," he replied with a grim half-smile, forcing his eyes to focus on the section of wall at her right. He couldn't bring himself to look at her, afraid of what he might see in her expression.

Lara shook her head slowly. "I'm so sorry you had to hear that!" She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, but he still refused to meet her gaze.

Placing a warm hand against his icy skin, Lara pulled his face toward her, so she could meet his eyes. Erik's breath caught in his throat as their gazes locked. Their lips were so close!

Lara began to lean forward, slowly closing the distance between them. Erik's heart began to throb painfully in his chest in response. He had to fight the urge to grab her and force his lips upon her himself!

Their faces were only inches apart, and Erik involuntarily let his eyes begin to close, despite the screaming protests of his mind and better judgment. '_No woman could ever bear to kiss you! You monstrous! Ugly! Corpse!_' his mind screamed at him, though its cries were soon lost in the fog that was quickly muffling his thoughts.

But his mind instantly cleared the moment Lara's expression became angry as she exclaimed, "You'd better not _ever_ let me catch you smoking! I swear that if I _do_, I will shove the pipe down your throat!"

Erik stared at her, shocked and horrified by his own delusions. Of course Lara wasn't going to kiss him! What had he been thinking?

Lara continued to scowl as she raised an eyebrow at Erik's expression. "Right then, I'm going now," she muttered under her breath, turning to leave.

Suddenly she halted outside of a door, at the end of the corridor, and inclined her head toward Erik. "By the way, watch out for the khanum, Erik…_She's got fangs_…" she hissed with a smirk, before disappearing through the door, leaving Erik alone with his thoughts.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, simply staring at Lara's door, before turning to make his way toward the khanum's abode. As he walked, he tried to push the depressing voice to the back of his mind, but its words were too true. They kept forcing themselves up, and Erik finally just let them wash over him. Drowning him. Suffocating him. Knowing he deserved the pain they caused.

_'You're a fool to hope! You are nothing but a horrid beast! Ugly…monstrous…unlovable…'_

**---**

**Thanks for reading! I hope everyone enjoyed the new chapter. I'll try to update again sometime this coming week.**

**Also, please check out my other Phantom story, "Infinity."**

**Review please!**


	5. The Predator and Her Prey

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**The Phantom of the Opera**_** or any of its characters. I do, however, own Lara and any other characters who were not in the novels of Leuroux or Kay.**

**Ah yes, the new chapter has finally arrived, and it's finally time for a khanum chapter! But don't worry, Lara still gets screen time. And yes, I do admit that I reused a lot of the dialogue between Erik and the khanum, but I promise I added more to it than the Persian's imagined description originally encompassed.**

**I can't believe it's been a month since I updated! Bad Onashii! –slaps self- I promise I'll try to update sooner from now on. **_**Infinity **_**is next on my update list though, and if you have time, please try reading a chapter or two from my other Phantom story.**

**Thanks again to all of my lovely reviewers and those of you who have added either me or my story to your favorites list. I adore you guys!**

**Oh, and just in case any of you haven't read Kay's **_**The Phantom**_**, Erik is about 19-20 years old at this point. I just thought I should point that out.**

**Read & Review!**

**---**

**Chapter Four: The Predator and Her Prey**

Erik sighed as he drifted into his lavish apartment, his mouth stretched into a taut line of frustration as he locked the door behind him.

The past couple of weeks spent with the khanum had been dreadful, and this day in particular proved to be especially strenuous on Erik. Her constant insults, demands, and whining were beginning to try his patience, and he was unsure of how much more he could tolerate. He had only been around the khanum for a short time, and already he loathed the cruel woman.

And then there was her constant taunting! It irritated him to no end how she managed to pick at him until he could barely restrain himself from strangling her. He began to recount the details of the day in his head as he absently wandered through his apartment.

_A woman sat on a pile of satiny cushions, leaning against them in a state of comfortable leisure. She was concealed from him by only a thin gauze; though, it was hardly modesty which prevented the her from removing all boundaries between her and her prey. After all, Erik was a man who had become one of her morbid fascinations, and she just happened to be a very powerful woman – a very _beautiful, _powerful woman._

_Hidden beneath her intricate veils was an elegantly sculpted face of an attractive bronze hue. Thick raven strands of hair cascaded down her back in a loosely plaited braid, embellished with lovely, little silver ornaments adorned with rare jewels. Dark, smoldering eyes peered up through thick, sooty lashes._

"_I am bored," she had complained. "I am bored, bored, _bored!" _She groaned in a most unladylike fashion as she beat a hand furiously against her pillow._

_An inquisitive look lit up her eyes, and she suddenly forgot about her impending tantrum. The pillow fell limply back among its fellows in the pile._ "_What name do you give to this tedious emotion in your country, Erik?"_

"_L'ennui, madame," he replied with a sigh, frustrated that she was keeping him from working on his palace designs in order to listen to her wearisome complaints._

"_L'ennui," she echoed in wonder as it rolled off her tongue, impressed by the lyrical pronunciation, so much smoother than her choppy native tongue. "What a charmingly seductive turn of phrase you Frenchmen have," she sighed longingly, coyly peering at him from beneath her dark lashes._

_Erik set his jaw and attempted to hold his tongue. No good would come from stupid, snide remarks. He would simply have to tolerate her mockery._

_The khanum frowned at his lack of response. She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes trying to bore into his skull and read his mind. Finally, she settled back into her previous position of lounging and curiously asked, "Do you ever feel...l'ennui...Erik?"_

"_Hardly, madame," Erik nearly snorted in reply. "Time and idleness are both necessary prerequisites to boredom, and God knows I have little enough of either commodity these days." Between the shah and the khanum's ridiculous requests, Erik barely had time to sleep anymore; though, he never did much of that before anyway. Truly, he would much rather be working on the shah's requests at the moment. Erik glared at a tapestry of the moon, that hung from the opposite wall, and scowled._

"_Don't scowl at me like that, you wretch!" the khanum growled spitefully, sitting up straight, her body tense with anger. "You are sufficiently ugly already without twisting your face in that fashion! In fact you are so incredibly and unbelievably repulsive that it's almost...attractive...in a strange way..." Her voice trailed off as she met his eyes, once again attempting to read his thoughts with her penetrating gaze._

_Erik made no response except to glare at her, his eyes filled with loathing. Was it not enough for her to point out his horrible flaws, but did she have to degrade him with her false paradoxes as well? He knew _attractive_ was something he could never be. Thanks to his face, no woman could ever want him, and now she was taunting him with that fact. How she loved to mock him! And how he wished to strangle her!_

"_So...you do not feel boredom, then," the khanum drawled, a mischievous smile forming on her lips as she leaned back against her cushions once more. She rubbed her finger thoughtfully against her chin. "What, I wonder, are you capable of feeling...Erik?"_

"_Anger," he answered softly, his voice no more than a deadly hiss. "Murderous anger. You will find me more than capable of that _madame!" _His hands clenched into fists and began to shake from the force of his restraint._

"_I think I should like to see you angry..." mused the khanum thoughtfully, glancing at Erik from beneath her dark lashes. "Yes...I think perhaps it would be very...interesting. Anger, too, can be strangely attractive, you know...in the right person." The khanum sat up against her cushions suddenly, watching him with interest, her eyes blazing with intensity. "Tell me, Erik, have you ever had a woman?"_

_There was a tense, throbbing silence between them. Erik seemed to have been petrified in stone by the very question, and his palms began to bleed where his nails had broken the skin from the force of his clenched fists._

"_Come, I demand to be answered," she prompted abruptly, her voice edgy and impatient. "Are you a virgin?"_

"_Madame," he sighed desolately. Although he unclenched his fists in order to place a hand to his masked forehead as a sign of tedium, his body lost none of its rigidity. "I am very busy," he finished dumbly._

"_Too busy for a woman?" the khanum repeated, incredulous. "No true man is that, my friend." She gave a derisive laugh, and Erik tensed at the sound._

_She watched him with a curious expression for a moment before slyly asking, "Would you like a woman, Erik?"_

_Erik glanced up at her, seeming shocked by the idea._

_The khanum's lips curved up into a knowing smirk as she continued, "I could arrange it, you know, I could arrange it very easily. And is that not what you surely desire above all things?"_

_His hands closed convulsively on the folds of his cloak and began to twist with a slow, savage rhythm. "Madame, I–" Erik gasped and cut himself off, for once unable to muster a reply, let alone one with composure._

_Excited by his reaction, the khanum's face broke out into a wide grin as she leaned forward, attempting to lessen the distance between her and her prey. Then she noticed the uncomfortable grimace on his face. She returned to her senses and sighed thoughtfully, "Hmm…perhaps you would be more comfortable with a virgin, such as yourself..."_

_He continued to twist his cloak between his bony hands, his skeletal fingers jerking harshly at the fabric as she spoke. He seemed so tense; he looked as if he was in physical pain. But this only encouraged the khanum to continue her cruel meddling._

"_Ah, yes. I do believe I have the perfect woman for you, Erik," she continued, her lips twisting into a mischievous smirk. "She is rather obstinate, but I have no doubt that she will indeed…_amuse_ you…" The khanum tilted her head to the side in an attempt to glimpse a better view of Erik, watching for some other reaction besides his furious fidgeting. "I assure you that she is a very attractive woman – a novelty, if you will, and most desirable for it – with fair skin and brilliant red hair–"_

"_Lara!" Erik exclaimed automatically, her name leaving his throat in a choked gasp._

_The khanum shot him a deadly glare. "How do you know that name?" she demanded furiously, her eyes blazing._

_Erik seemed taken aback by her sudden outburst. For a moment he could only stare at her, but then his expression hardened. "The shah."_

"_What?" the khanum snapped._

"_The shah," he repeated calmly. "He spoke of her, and once I was fortunate enough to witness her beauty." The khanum's glare bore into him accusingly, so he quickly added, "When I happened to walk in on her performance for the shah." No need to mention that his first encounter with her had actually been in his own home._

"_Ah," the khanum answered simply, recovering her composure. Then her lips twisted back into her usual, vicious grin. "So, how do you find her? Desirable? Seductive?" Erik's eyes widened at the unexpected question. "Does she fill you with…lust?"_

_He nearly ripped his cloak in two, and his expression was aghast and pained. And yet he held his breath, unable to force his lungs to function properly next to his erratic heart._

_The khanum seemed satisfied by his lapse in composure. "Would you like to have her, Erik?" His hands clenched down on his knees as he attempted to catch his breath. "She was originally intended for the shah, but I could easily convince him that she would be of more use to you. All you have to do is say the word, and she shall be yours. A beautiful woman who must satiate your desires or face the penalty of her disobedience. Would you like a woman – a wife – Erik? Would you like Lara?"_

"_Stop!" Erik gasped. The khanum stared intently into his face, and she saw a desperate man. He was being crushed by his own pain and desire._

_The khanum obliged, eagerly awaiting the moment when Erik would finally break. But that moment never came. Instead, Erik managed to calm his raging insides and emotions and defy his own desires. As was usual with Erik, his mind triumphed over his body. He simply acted as if nothing had happened._

"_What I desire above all things," he began calmly, finally answering the original question that had sparked such a scene, and his voice grew colder as he watched the loathsome woman with suppressed rage, "is to be left in peace to complete my commission without disturbance."_

_The khanum frowned behind the open-worked aperture of her veil, nonplussed by Erik's response. Her spoiled side began to bubble up to the surface again._

"_You think of nothing else these days but that palace," she complained. "I am jealous of your ridiculous devotion to a pile of stone and mortar. My son demands altogether too much of your time, and I intend to tell him so. You were brought to Persia for _my_ amusement. _Mine!_" she gestured wildly to herself, as she spit the words. "And you _will _amuse me, Erik!...one way or another...I forbid you to return to the site until you have devised some new form of entertainment...an amusing death, perhaps. Go now and think upon it." And with a jerk of her hand and a smoldering glance, she dismissed Erik. He stood, tense with controlled anger, and gave a stiff bow before departing._

_As he moved away from the harem's courtyard, the Daroga met him outside of its boundaries. Nadir had opened his mouth to greet Erik, but quickly shut it when he recognized Erik's black mood._

"_Er-Erik?" Nadir ventured hesitantly. "Is…something wrong?"_

_Erik completely ignored him and proceeded to mutter murderous thoughts under his breath until finally he snapped. "She wants amusing deaths?" he shouted, insane with rage. "By God, she shall have them!"_

_Never had Nadir seen such a frightening presence of murder reflected in another man's eyes. And seeing this present in Erik's golden orbs, flickering with madness and murderous intent, only served to increase Nadir's unease. They walked in silence – a fuming silence in Erik's case – toward Erik's apartment. After a time, the silence became too much for Nadir, and he decided to speak up._

"_Erik…perhaps–"_

"_Daroga," Erik sighed, suddenly weary, "Not now…I would prefer you leave me to my own devices."_

_Nadir was hesitant about leaving Erik to himself while trapped in such a dark state of mind. Yet he knew there was nothing he could do to stop Erik if solitude is what he desired. So he complied with Erik's wishes and simply hung back and sighed, "Very well, Erik…" in a defeated manner._

And here Erik was, with all the solitude he could possibly desire – apart from his servants who tended to shy away from him anyway and melt into the scenery while he was present. He promptly sent them away, and they scattered like lost sheep, desperate to escape the wolf's fangs.

Under normal circumstances, Erik would have found this amusing, but at the moment he only found their fear foolish and irritating. His mood had not improved after the Daroga's departure, and suddenly he found himself regretting Nadir's absence. Perhaps a distraction _would _have been good for him.

Without his companion's usual, unintentionally amusing antics, Erik felt himself drowning in his dark mood. He began devising an _"amusing death"_ for the khanum and stalked into his study with murderous thoughts, imagining _her_ as the victim of his new invention.

Erik's prolonged exposure to the khanum had only served to bring out his darker side, and he hated to admit it, but he felt there was another reason behind his foul mood. He had not seen Lara in weeks, and he had to admit he was disappointed by this fact. Although he could see similarities between her and the khanum, Lara possessed a certain charm about her that the khanum lacked, but Erik couldn't seem to put his finger on what it was.

He entered his study and distractedly began yanking supplies off his shelves. After his arms were full of ink bottles, two quills, and plenty of paper, he made his way back to his desk and nearly dropped the bundle out of sheer surprise.

Lara was draped across his desk, supporting her head with her left arm as she peered at him with a suppressed smirk. Once again she had left off the customary robes and was instead clothed in an emerald green top and skirt, both of which revealed much more creamy white skin than was appropriate. It seemed she had decided to show up in what could be referred to as her undergarments. Apparently modesty was less of a concern to her than comfort.

"What are you doing here?" Erik demanded in an irate hiss, attempting to dismiss her indecency, as he swiftly caught his airborne supplies before they could make a mess on his freshly polished floor.

Lara giggled and lifted herself into a sitting position, kicking her legs gently back and forth – as a child would – as they hung limply off the desk. Then she shrugged her shoulders. "No reason, really…I suppose I was just bored."

Erik shot her a nasty glare. What was it with these women? Always coming to him and wasting his precious time, complaining about their _boredom_. How was it _his _fault they had nothing better to do? Finally, his irritation subsided, and he simply stared at her with a calculating look.

"You were bored?" he repeated incredulously.

"Yes," Lara responded automatically. Erik continued to stare at her, and she began shifting uncomfortably. Something was bothering her.

"Really?"

"Yes!" she snapped defensively.

Erik pursed his lips and quirked an eyebrow beneath his mask. Even his yellow eyes betrayed his obvious skepticism.

Lara gave a heavy sigh and closed her eyes. "Well, no…Not really," she finally admitted. She opened her eyes and trained them on him, watching his reaction cautiously. "Truthfully, I actually came to try and persuade you to leave again…" She looked almost guilty about that fact.

"Ah," Erik replied simply. Then after a short moment, his eyes widened in realization. "_Oh…_"

They fell into an embarrassed silence until finally Erik broke it. "Was this for me?" he asked awkwardly, gesturing toward Lara's costume.

"Don't flatter yourself," Lara scoffed derisively, though her eyes still betrayed her. "You try wearing layers upon layers of robes in this blistering heat!" She paused and tilted her head to the side. "Come to think of it, how can you stand wearing black in this weather?"

Erik shrugged. "Temperature simply does not bother me."

"Oh," Lara replied awkwardly, casting her eyes down at the floor.

Erik sighed and gave up his attempt of continuing his charade of formality. He glided toward Lara and sat down in his chair. He leaned his elbows against the desk and rested his head wearily in his hands, excruciatingly aware of Lara's bare legs inches away from him. "Lara?" he sighed.

"Hmm?"

"Why are you so desperate for me to leave?" Erik asked bitterly in an attempt to hide his inexplicable misery. In his eyes, Lara would _have _to be desperate in order for her to put herself at such personal risk by attempting to seduce him.

Lara grabbed one of Erik's quills and began fumbling with it, twirling it between her fingers distractedly. She remained obstinately silent for a moment before sighing, "If you leave, I won't be forced to serve my purpose as a concubine. I could once more save myself by entertaining them with my magic tricks…" She glanced at Erik with unintentionally pleading eyes. "But if you remain, I will eventually be considered…_disposable_."

There was nothing Erik could say. In truth, he did not know _what_ to say. He could not tell her he was sorry because he wasn't. He _wanted_ the power.

"I fear I am running out of time," Lara continued quietly. "The shah has been acting so strangely, and today, the khanum suggested a new proposal to me…She offered that instead of becoming another concubine of the shah's, she could try and convince him to give me to a wifeless man as a gift of a virgin bride…"

Erik gasped in a sharp breath and suddenly felt disoriented. _He _had been the one having that discussion with the khanum. She had meant _him_!

Lara took no notice of his reaction and simply continued, "That was when I decided to come here…Partially to escape from the khanum and partially to convince you to leave…"

She placed a hesitant hand on Erik's chin, frowning as he flinched away from her touch to glare at her with suspicion. Despite his negative reaction, she persisted and forced his face up until she was gazing deeply into his eyes. She smiled at him and delicately caressed the exposed flesh of his jaw line with her soft hands.

Erik's breath caught in his throat and found himself unable to turn away from her, even as her fingers drew dangerously close to his mask. He knew the tender moment was inevitably going to end with Lara revealing his hideous face and fleeing from him, screaming with horror. But somehow, he felt that this moment of willing human contact might possibly be worth it.

As her face drew closer, he realized what she was trying to do. She was trying to manipulate him with her womanly charms. But he refused to give up his power! He refused to give up the chance of having a wife, like any other normal man! If he stayed, he could possess those things, and even Lara might be his.

"Erik," she whispered, her airy voice pleading, "Would you do me a favor?"

"Of course, my dear," he replied melodiously.

Her smile widened, and her greens eyes twinkled with arrogant pride at her impending triumph.

"_But!_" Erik interrupted, holding up a skeletal finger to demand her attention, "I shall refuse your request if it is to ask me to leave."

Lara's face twisted in anger, and she shoved him away with a futile attempt at force, for she more or less only succeeded in pushing herself across the desk. "No fair!" she huffed, folding her arms across her chest and scowling.

"Life is hardly fair, mademoiselle," he chuckled darkly, without humor. He, of all people, could understand that.

There was a small tinkling of bells: a sign that the servants were returning. Lara and Erik froze and stared at the door apprehensively.

After a moment, Lara broke the silence with a heavy sigh. "I really should not be here. If someone sees me with you, it could mean death for the both of us…I suppose I should go…" She glared moodily at the heavily draped window. Things were not going quite as she had hoped.

Then her eyes darted back to Erik, and her lips curved up into a smirk. "But don't think this is the last you'll see of me. I have plenty of tricks up my sleeves."

"As do I," he retorted calmly, smirking arrogantly.

Lara's eyes narrowed into a glare as she gently murmured, "We shall see…" She then proceeded to disappear in a flash of light and smoke, in imitation of the vanishing act Erik had used during his performance for the shah, igniting a few of his draperies in the process.

Erik scowled and doused the flames with a lazy wave of his hand before leaning down to scoop up the pile of ashes left on the floor. As he crouched down, the bookcase behind him began to quake violently, sending books flying off its shelves. Erik's gaze snapped up to register the cause of such a disturbance, and suddenly the bookcase had toppled over of its own accord, narrowly missing him as he ducked out of the way of the wooden giant.

Lara's high laughter floated in from the window, and Erik glared hatefully at the silhouette lurking just outside of the room.

"So!" Erik hissed at the window, "It is to be war between us!"

The shadow lingered for just a moment longer, but Erik could have sworn he saw a flash of white teeth.

**---**

**Gah, Lara is such a silly fool.**

**Thanks for reading! Please Review!**


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